


Splinters Flying

by lori (zakhad)



Series: Captain and Counselor, the revised versions [9]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 03:28:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17593751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zakhad/pseuds/lori
Summary: Complete rewrite - fortunate it's short.





	Splinters Flying

_You and your sweet smile_  
_You and your tantalizing ways_  
_You and your honey lips_  
_You and all the sweet things that they say_  
_You and your wild wild ways_  
_One day you just up and walked away_

 _You left me hurting_  
_But I can forgive you for that now_  
_You taught me something_  
_Something I took half my life to learn_  
_When you give all yourself away_  
_Just tell them to be careful of your heart_

 _Be careful of my heart,_  
_Be careful of this heart of mine_  
_Be careful of my heart,_  
_It just might break and send some splinters flying_  
_Be careful of my heart,_  
_Be careful_

 _But I'm not breaking down_  
_And I'm not falling apart_  
_I just lost a little faith_  
_When you broke my heart_  
_Given a chance_  
_I might try it again_  
_But I wouldn't risk it all this time_

 _I'd save_  
_A little love for myself_  
_Enough for my heart to mend_  
_A little love for myself_  
_One day I just might love again_  
_One day some sweet smile might turn my head_  
_One day I just might give all myself away_

~~~Tracy Chapman

 

* * *

 

 

The chips went out in neat stacks. The cards -- Will had brought his own deck, as usual, this time a dog-eared starbases of the quadrant set. Jean-Luc only wasted a few seconds wondering why not a Miss Galaxy deck, before turning from the card table they'd dragged into his quarters. He glanced out at the _Lexington_  -- had Riker actually parked it just outside captain's quarters on purpose? It was a good view of the little vessel.

"I asked Carlisle to come, but I doubt he will," Jean-Luc said.

Will Riker lazed on the sofa, long legs crossed, drink cradled over his chest over his crossed arm. "My first officer went to the starbase with a friend. I doubt my tactical officer will come, either. He's got a girlfriend down in engineering."

"He doesn't see her often enough?"

"Not when she's in your engineering, he doesn't." Will glanced out the viewports. "I didn't think I'd like it, but she's a nice little ship. Maneuverable. We've gotten out of some tight spots. So where is she?"

Will had been there for at least half an hour, and finally he'd gotten around to asking. Jean-Luc had noticed his glances around the room, at some of Deanna's things. 

"She's taken a shuttle out. Working on her pilot's certification. I'm getting something, would you care for a drink?"

Will came to the card table and sat down, picking up the deck and starting to shuffle. "Some ale?"

It took a little back and forth to decide what kind of ale. Jean-Luc brought two replicated Argelian pale ales to the table. 

"How's it going?" 

Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow. They had already compared notes on how their assignments were going; Will had swung over to the starbase from a system survey, and the  _Enterprise_ was there to pick up two lieutenants for the sciences department.

"With Deanna?" Will added.

"Ah. Very well," Jean-Luc said. And then, unsure of whether or not Will had been in contact with her and settled things, he stalled on that subject.

"So well she moved in," Will said.

"Yes?"

Will should have grinned, if all were well, but he had a faint hint of a smile. "And you are successfully cohabitating without killing each other."

That was deserving of a double-eyebrow lift. "Is there a reason you think it should be otherwise?"

"You have, for the entire time I have known you, been solitary. Set in your ways, you've stated many times. She has been similar in this regard, and she tends to be a private person, who enjoys silence more than anyone else I know." He halved the deck and shuffled once more, tapped the cards on end, set the deck aside.

"One of the things about her that I appreciate, actually." Jean-Luc drank more beer, and wished it weren't synthale.

Will looked around more, his eyes lingering here and there -- on the picture of Deanna and her mother, and then on a picture of Deanna that Jean-Luc had liked enough to frame and put on an end table, of her in the short teal dress she had worn on some of their evenings out. When the computer signaled another arrival, he turned to smile at Data as the android came in with Geordi right behind him.

"Captain Riker," Data greeted cordially. 

"Hey, Will," Geordi said with a grin. "What are we drinking?"

"Computer, another Argelian ale," Jean-Luc said, pointing Geordi toward the replicator to get his.

Setting aside the cards, Will rose from his chair to shake hands warmly and cuff Data on the shoulder, then resettled to shuffle the deck again. "Good to see you, Data. Geordi. How are you?"

"I am in a period of mourning," Data said. "Spot died in her sleep last week." He did not of course sound at all sad.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Will said sincerely, though like everyone, he had no great attachment to the cat that terrorized all catsitters who dared attempt to take care of him in Data's absence.

The reminder brought back irritation at the android's request that Jean-Luc perform an actual funeral, albeit a private one, for his beloved pet. As far as Data had come, he occasionally exhibited some peculiarities. Jean-Luc wondered how Deanna had handled the situation -- Data didn't seem disturbed that no funeral had materialized. Deanna had volunteered to pick up a replacement pet, if Data trusted her judgement. There weren't so many animals on the ship; the E wasn't so family friendly as the D, and the selection of available pets smaller.

"I hope Deanna remembers to bring back my dog."

"I'm sure she'll remember, Data, you only reminded her four times on the way to the shuttle bay," Geordi said.

"I thought she went to clock hours for a pilot's certification?" Riker came to the table at last and watched Data take up the deck.

Jean-Luc waited until his hand had been completed, then picked it up. "Yes, on her way to Starbase 468."

Will dropped his cards. His blue eyes narrowed; he stared at his former captain. "Why that starbase?"

Geordi glanced at Data, then at Jean-Luc. "The Maquis we apprehended on Galisi are being held there pending transport to Earth," Jean-Luc said.

"Maquis," Will echoed, confused. Data finished shuffling and started dealing. 

"One of them was Thomas Riker. He promised he'd talk, but only to her. If there's anything Starfleet wants at this point, it's intelligence about what the Maquis are up to -- there may not be many of them, but having them show up on the Neutral Zone is too much of a coincidence for anyone's liking."

"And you let her go?"

Jean-Luc looked up from his cards. "I told her about it, and she decided to go, now that she's recovered from her injuries and able to do so."

Will scooped up the cards he'd been dealt and seemed lost in thought as he studied his hand. And said nothing -- glanced at Data, waiting for the dealer to announce the rules of the game.

 

* * *

 

Deanna was glad of deLio's presence at her back. 

They passed the observation windows, skirting crowds of gawkers staring at the ships parked in orbit around the station. Her uniform, and deLio's presence like a solid threat at her shoulder, parted whatever groups were too large to go around. She caught herself mimicking Jean-Luc's self-assured manner, his pretense of being larger and stronger than anyone else in sight, and smiled at the thought of him. 

She quickened her pace and turned down a corridor that would take them to the security section of the starbase.

deLio took care of the clerk at the front, announcing her presence as if she were royalty. The station's security chief, Commander Simmons, escorted them between the rows of solid doors to cell 4C and left them in the antechamber outside a force field, the blue glow of it cast on the stark gray walls in the dimly-lit chamber.

"Wait outside, deLio. I'll call if I need you."

The chief of _Enterprise_ security shook his head, drooping jowls wobbling. He stood at parade rest just inside the closed doors. She briefly considered pulling rank, and took a different avenue.

"I won't lower the force field. I'll be safe. Please." She glanced at the series of vents along the wall opposite the field, where she knew sensors observed every movement and sound in the room.

deLio's green eyes regarded her solemnly, then he took a step backward, setting off the door sensor. He backed into the hall. The doors closed on him, standing at attention facing them. Finally, she approached the force field and looked inside.

He looked so much like Will her heart jerked into her throat. Of course, he really was Will, just not the one with whom she'd spent so many years as a friend. The transporter accident that had created him and left him stranded on a planet for years, putting his career in stasis, then his rescue by the _Enterprise_ and the 'original' William T. Riker -- that had started him down a very different journey than the first officer of the flagship of the fleet. He'd tried to restart his career and suffered a crisis of principle verses duty, like so many other officers, and gone rogue.

Tom sat on the bunk, wearing a navy blue coverall with a neon yellow stripe up the tops of the sleeves and yellow numbers printed on the front and back, shouting his status as a prisoner. He'd been allowed to clean up and was clean-shaven, his hair trimmed short. He had that sullen look of someone in a situation from which they knew there could be no escape but determined to do it anyway. She felt his anger, his frustration, and he glared at her.

"Deanna," he said, furious and stern.

Having prepared her schooled demeanor, she knew she didn't appear to react, but it hurt just the same. "You wanted to speak to me."

"Not like this." He stood and paced a little, then came over to the force field to stand in front of her. "You lured me out."

"I spent a week recuperating from the burns and the skull fracture, and the other injuries, after someone shot our runabout out of the sky. And yes, I lured you out, so no one would have to die."

His glare lost some of the intensity. "We were trying to find a place to live."

"You were stealing, Tom. From people who would have simply given you help," she said, letting her anger show. "The people on Galisi are Betazoid. You nearly killed some of them!"

"Not me. You don't understand how hard I've tried to convince -- "

"Not hard enough. You also could have left. Instead of following them like sheep." It infuriated her that he was lying so blatantly to her. 

He scowled at her through the force field. "Who are you now?"

"Exactly what I want to ask you! How did it come to this?"

The hum of the force field, as soft as it was, was the only sound for a time. Finally he stuck his hands in the pockets of the coverall, chewed his lower lip briefly and hung his head. "It's been a long time since I was Starfleet. A long time since I was that eager young officer."

"I could say the same."

"You've changed," he agreed, starting to smile with the same old affection. But it didn't have the same effect on her as the last time she'd met him; she found it extremely irritating.

"Not in ways that you would find compatible. So what is it that you want to tell Starfleet?"

His smile dwindled again. "Right down to business, no time for me?"

"No time -- I have to return to the  _Enterprise_ within a few hours."

Tom smirked at that, thoroughly amused. "To rush off on some mission of great importance. Because the counselor of the flagship is so necessary, in the -- "

"Because the war has left Starfleet at the lowest recruitment rate in history, because so many vessels were destroyed, because we are all spread too thin across too much space and people like you are wasting our time," she said, furious. "We had to leave the  _Valiant_ disabled to deal with your little band of terrorists after they were diverted from another mission to be ambushed by you. And now they are stuck at a starbase getting repairs, instead of completing their list of tasks. Forcing some other vessel to bring supplies to colonists who have been waiting -- do you not understand, that the war is over? You and your friends are no longer freedom fighters protecting citizens who don't want to leave their homes. You aren't heroes any more. You have become criminals, stealing from people who need what you are taking from them, and Starfleet can't just drop by any time and give them more."

He blinked at her after a long startled stare. "The Cardassians -- "

"What could anyone have done to you, that you decided you were justified in stealing from colonists?" she shouted. "Betazed is not Cardassia! My cousins did nothing to the Maquis!"

Tom gaped for a moment, and backed a step. "I don't control what they do. It's not like Starfleet, where there are orders and regulations. Milo and Jor, and -- "

"You stayed behind when the ships that still worked were not large enough to take all of you," she exclaimed, scowling, pacing a little. "Because you know how to fly a runabout and talk your way around Starfleet officers. If the runabout hadn't been so damaged you would have stunned or killed us and taken it. Stop lying to me. Insulting my intelligence."

He laughed, shaking his head, reaching up to run his fingers through his short hair. "Wow. You must be giving Will merry hell -- definitely not the Deanna I remember."

"Do you have anything useful to tell me? You're wasting my time," she snapped. The implication that she was with Will was the last straw. "I am not giving him anything whatsoever, and I never will."

"How is my standard issue better half doing?"

She continued to glare, arms crossed, waiting. He seemed to be staring at her hair -- leaned a little closer and narrowed his eyes.

"You're wearing a wig," he said.

She whipped the wig off her head to expose the short cap of tight curls. "This is what happens when you have plasma burns on your head, yes. I have to grow back all my hair. You have two minutes to start telling me whatever it is you feel might help your case, before I leave you to your court martial and go back to the  _Enterprise_. You should start with how you went from standing for something to being whatever it is you've become, because I am having a lot of trouble believing what I'm seeing here."

"You were really hurt. I'm sorry." He was genuinely chagrined; it softened her somewhat, seeing that he was still capable of regret. 

"I understand why none of you wanted to be caught, you all have criminal charges, but it wasn't as though you would be locked away forever and you could all have returned to the Federation -- why? Why are you trying to steal from Federation colonies along the Neutral Zone?" she asked, hoping that piling up question after question might generate genuine emotional responses. 

There was a moment of wariness at the mention of the Neutral Zone, but he recovered fast. Refocused on her, unfortunately. "Why were you even on that away team? What was a counselor supposed to do in that situation?"

"Were you waiting for the Romulans to come? Or some other species?"

He frowned again, backing another few steps. Questioning something -- uncertain. She wasn't wavering or responding to his attempts to distract her.

"I led that away team, because I was able to sense you there," she said. "I was ordered to apprehend you and your friends. Remove you from the colony and take you into custody. Were you there waiting for someone and stealing things to sustain yourselves while you waited? Or were you collecting things to give your new friends?"

"What are you doing, Deanna?" he said softly. From appearances he was wounded by her questions. She could tell, however, that he was starting to pay more attention to her leading questions and be wary, which suggested she was getting close to the truth.

"I'm sorry, that it's all ended this way," she said with less ire. "I'm sorry that I'm angry. It feels like you've thrown your life away, and I guess it's easier to be angry at you than to be sad."

"The only thing I regret is not being with you," he said wistfully.

Deanna heard what she sensed then -- finally it was lining up, he did regret, he did still feel for her. But everything else told her, she knew from what she'd sensed, that he had evolved in directions she would never have expected.

"Good bye, William Riker," she said sincerely. She put the wig on, and turned to leave. He said nothing as she left the room.

deLio waited in the corridor right where she had left him, with Commander Simmons. She collected her thoughts, smiled at the man, and said, "You should focus your questions on their involvement with the Romulans. I sensed enough to suspect that there is something there. I have to say I never would have believed it possible but it's obvious that they have been doing more than looking for a place to live."

"Thank you, Commander." Simmons smiled appreciatively. "Might I be able to convince you to stay and have dinner with me?"

She flinched -- while she'd sensed the attraction, she hadn't expected him to do that. "Thank you, but I have to get back. The  _Enterprise_ has a schedule to meet and I can't delay in meeting it. Mr. deLio?"

"Sir," deLio said sternly, with a scathing look at Simmons. He followed her out of the detention facility. He was silent all the way back to the shuttle, and while she contacted the station to disembark. Once they were under way, he asked, "Was the journey worthwhile?"

"It was. I think they will find that one of the former Maquis is actually a Romulan."

He turned from the copilot's console to look at her. His facial expressions were generally very subtle, but it was easy to tell he was surprised by the widening of his green eyes.

"I've been among Romulans. They are not unlike Vulcans, to my empathy. The other Maquis in the cells around the detention center were easy to detect."

"Commander, I believe I have not congratulated you on your commendation."

Deanna faced him, somewhat confused. "Thank you. But... I'm not sure how you know that I received one." There was usually a small ceremony, but she hadn't wanted to do that. First because she had been recovering and didn't feel well, then because she was still feeling off, and struggling with her mixed feelings about the mission. She kept looking back on it second-guessing herself.

"The captain told me that he had given it to you."

Odd, but she accepted it and turned back to the helm. Studied the readouts. "We should be back in an hour and a half. Warp four would cut that in half, however."

"That would be acceptable to me as well."

"Increasing to warp four."

 

* * *

 

Jean-Luc poured another scotch for Will and handed it over. The others had left to go back to their respective duties. Will lingered on, and Jean-Luc got out what was left of the bottle of whiskey that Deanna had given him. After a few rounds he was starting to feel it, and Will started to show it.

"So are you thinking about promotion?" Will asked. They'd been talking about refit schedules, and how some upgrades had been delayed. 

"Why would I do that?" Jean-Luc sipped ever so sparingly and slumped back on the couch. It was evening, and starting to look like he would go to bed alone. He didn't like the thought.

"I thought you might consider it given her recent experience -- it would be safer," he said.

"No," Jean-Luc said, huffing -- he considered getting up to pace, but his entire body felt warm and relaxed, and he was starting to feel a bit lightheaded. He had anticipated when the others had gone that Will might try to talk more about Deanna, and accepted it, but it didn't mean he wanted to.

Will snorted and drank more whiskey. 

"You seem to think we don't understand what we're up against," Jean-Luc said, waving his glass with half an inch of whiskey in the bottom.

"It isn't the same, with someone you love."

Jean-Luc knew he was probably grinning like a loon. "Oh, no. It most certainly is not."

Will chuckled -- the alcohol was definitely in play. "Hopeless."

"They shot down the runabout," Jean-Luc said, pulling himself up out of the slouch and reaching again for the bottle in front of him on the table. "She hit her head on the panel when they destroyed the engine with the second shot, and sent it into a spin. The plasma burns destroyed the skin on the right side of her head, including the nerves. Fractured the cranium. Her leg broke in the crash and she was bleeding from a ten inch laceration. deLio carried her out of the wreckage and when she woke up she took command and finished the mission. Hopeless is not in our vocabulary, Will. To exceeding expectations," he announced, swinging the glass upward. He drank, the mouthful of scotch searing its way down.

Will was silent for a time. Jean-Luc didn't bother to look. He sipped and thought about her, and wished she were home.

"She contacted me," Will said at last.

"Yes, the day before the crash. She was upset. Thinks she's lost her best friend." That was a bad thing to say, he realized in retrospect, it wasn't his place to say anything at all about that. Leaning forward, he put the glass down next to the bottle with a little too much force. The crack sounded too loud. Drunk, he told himself, trying to stop swaying.

"I think that would be you now."

Jean-Luc turned to look at him slowly, as if that would help him regain gross motor skills. "I think that is her decision to make. It is definitely not mine."

Will was staring at him with red-rimmed, tired eyes. "I was pissed," he said.

"Hurt."

"She lied to me," Will said, sitting upright suddenly.

There was nothing to say to that. Jean-Luc wanted to leave -- but they were his quarters. And that would make him a poor host, so he stayed, and tried to think about what to say, how to change the subject.

"She told me we had a bond, that was special." Will seemed to connect a few neurons then, and pulled himself up off the couch. "I will see you next time, Jean-Luc."

The door opened, and Deanna came in looking tired. She sized up the situation at once, as Will stood there swaying and staring, and went to the desk -- she rummaged and returned to him and pressed the business end of a hypospray against his neck. "Hello, Will."

"Hello," he replied with a note of surprise.

Deanna stood there for a moment, but evidently sensed nothing that led her to say anything more. She then came to do the same to Jean-Luc, leaning down, wrinkling her nose while administering the hypo -- she didn't care for the smell of whiskey and she didn't like it when he was drunk. Standing back, she shook her head, yanked off the wig, threw it at him, and went into the bedroom.

"Oh, dear." Jean-Luc felt the buzzing of the medication clearing his head, and while it would be a few minutes yet before the drug completely did away with the buzz, he stood with more coordination of effort than before. The wig slid off his chest and he caught it. She was off schedule -- he hadn't expected her back so soon, and none of the things he'd promised was currently true. He'd let the alcohol distract him.

"You have hair," Will said, also still drunk. He pointed at the wig in Jean-Luc's right hand.

 "Not mine, however. You need to apologize to her." He waved the wig at him menacingly.

"I think you need to go first." Will headed for the door.

"Will," Jean-Luc blurted. When he hesitated and glanced back, Jean-Luc went on. "Talk to her later."

Will pursed his lips as if refraining from speaking and left without a word.

He hurried in and found her sitting on her side of the bed with her face in her hands. The drunken fuzziness finished clearing itself from his head, and he approached to further assess the situation. "It didn't go well?"

"It went as well as it could I suppose." She raised her head and looked up -- at the stars, at the underside of the Intrepid class vessel hovering outside. She looked despondent.

"What can I do?"

She laughed, and finally looked at him. "I hate my wig."

"The power to grow hair has never been mine, or I would happily do whatever I could."

She laughed again, but he could tell she wasn't happy. Her eyes were red and her smile forced. "I need sleep."

"Have you eaten today? I think you may need food."

"Maybe after sleep. My eyes hurt. I'm not really hungry."

The lack of anger left in her led him to try putting his arms around her, and she leaned into him as if she wanted to wear him like a jacket.

"I hope you had a good time with Will," she murmured.

"It was fine." The details wouldn't help at this point. "I think it must have been very stressful seeing Tom. You didn't bring back a pet for Data."

"Oh -- damn," she blurted. "I completely forgot."

"There will be other opportunities."

After a few minutes they moved, to lay upon the bed, and he ran his fingers through her short hair as she used his shoulder for a pillow. "I missed you, Jean-Fish."

"I'm glad you came home before bedtime. It was looking like a long night," he murmured. "I promised you chocolate. There's some on the night stand."

She moaned, and it sounded like distress, but when she spoke she sounded merely tired. "Maybe later. This is nice."

"I'm sorry I was drunk when you came home."

"I'm sorry I lost my temper. It was difficult to deal with the fact that Tom Riker is completely lost -- I sometimes thought that someday, he might find his way to me again. And now that he's traveled parsecs in the wrong direction, he won't even be a friend any more. He lied to me. I think he was doing it because he knew everything was recorded, and nothing we talked about mattered. He just wanted to see me. That's how far he's gone from what he was. I don't like to see how much he's changed because it reminds me that people do change that much sometimes, and for the worst."

"Some of us change in other directions, cygne."

She giggled and patted his chest. "Yes, I'm proud of you, in all your changes." She sighed, settling in and after a moment her breathing evened out and she seemed to be asleep.

His thoughts wandered to things Will had said, while she dozed. Finally she awakened enough to notice. "What are you thinking about?"

"Bonds and why they happen. I was researching a little more before Will arrived."

"Not more current affairs, such as our tour of the Neutral Zone? I think Tom and his group have a connection to some faction within the Romulan Empire," she mumbled.

"Breaking your own rules, I see." She usually wanted nothing to do with duty, after hours, especially if they were in bed.

"Hmph. Sorry. I'll talk to the captain in the morning then. Did your research into the bonding of Betazoids tell you why I love you so much?"

"I think that will remain a mystery, and I'm fine with that. Let me know when you're hungry."

She sat up, and looked down at him with bleary eyes and an affectionate smile. "You're hungry and I will probably be able to eat now too, so we should eat."

"Damned empath."


End file.
